The day had begun like any other day. Alex was jolted awake by her alarm clock. She intentionally kept the buzzer loud for fear that if she didn’t she might sleep right through it. Her caramel-colored, French-manicured hand reached over and batted it quiet. She grabbed her silk floral robe from the foot of the bed where she had neatly laid it the night before and stepped into her slippers, which could always be found on the side of the bed, facing east. She headed for the bathroom and eased into the rhythm of her day.
At 6:15, she exited the shower, walked over to her closet and retrieved her new black suit, a purchase she had made just for today, and laid it on the bed. She eyed the suit, made of the finest wool crepe, knowing she had offered a king’s ransom for it, but satisfied the payoff would be worth every penny spent.
As she moved about her bedroom, continuing to perform the customary tasks of her morning, she was struck by an odd feeling. She really couldn’t describe it, other than to say, she didn’t feel like herself. She briefly pondered the sensation, but when a logical reason failed to present itself, she continued with her morning routine.
At 6:30, she styled her hair and applied her make-up; all neutral, of course, and not too loud. In her male-dominated field of being a stockbroker, she couldn’t afford to not be taken seriously.
At 6:45, she sat at her kitchen table with a cinnamon bagel she had freshly toasted and a glass of orange juice and studied the Wall Street Journal. Her entire morning had gone off without a hitch. She performed every task at the appropriate time, just as she had done every morning.
Coincidentally, Alex’s life had played out much like her morning routine. She craved structure and order. She demanded predictability. Without it, she was lost. It was the foundation of her very existence. And like an architect, she had successfully built a career on that foundation. She had painstakingly planned and executed every move that led her to today.
At 7:00, Alex grabbed her coat and briefcase and was headed for the door. As she reached for the doorknob, she stopped in her tracks. She stood in the foyer momentarily, dropping her briefcase to the floor. The Italian marble tile intensified the sound. There was that feeling again. An uneasiness enveloped her and there was a heaviness in the air. She searched her mind for a cause.
After a few seconds had passed, she shrugged it off as just being nervous over having to make the presentation to the board later that morning. She had done it countless times, but if she was successful today, she’d be one step closer to her coveted promotion as senior vice president and one of the highest paid African-American females in Chicago. That definitely raised the stakes.
Perhaps the feeling was related to the disagreement she had had with her mother the previous night, which seemed to be happening more frequently since her father had passed two years ago. It’s just nerves, she thought. Everything would be all right once she got the presentation over with, she figured. She picked up her briefcase and rushed out the door, headed for one of the largest investment firms in the city.
When she arrived at work, she began to feel more like herself. With the exception of knocking over her morning coffee, the day had been unfolding quite like she had anticipated. She glanced at the clock, which showed thirty minutes until her presentation, and wisely used the time to go over everything, making sure no detail was missed and her presentation was airtight.
After a final check in the restroom mirror, she took the elevator upstairs, continuing to rehearse the presentation. She smiled on the inside, confident in her work and knowing her ideas would move the company in a new direction and remove all doubt as to whether she was the right candidate for the position. If she could pull this one off, she’d be promoted for sure.
Arriving on the ninth floor, Alex walked into the executive boardroom and greeted the eight members of the all-male team seated at the mahogany table with a nod. She walked over and closed the blinds to ensure all eyes would be focused on her and not peering out of the window. She was well-aware that the words she delivered would have to be impressive.
Everything was in order, and she was ready to begin. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. When she opened her mouth to speak, her train of thought was interrupted by a man entering the conference room. Alex paused and rolled her eyes, irritated by the interruption.
Upon taking a closer look at him, she was momentarily stunned. It had been a while since she had seen someone so attractive. He was impeccably dressed and well-groomed. His dark skin was flawless. Alex was taken off guard by his good looks.
This brother was definitely in the wrong meeting, she thought. Trying not to stare, Alex greeted him with the intention of helping him find out where he was supposed to be.
“Can I help you, sir?” Alex grabbed his attention.
Perhaps he was a client or vendor. Whoever he was, she was eager to help him and send him on his way so that she could get back to business. To her surprise, she heard Mr. Jacobson, the CEO, eagerly address the refined and distinguished stranger.
“Welcome, Daniel,” Mr. Jacobson said. “We saved you a seat.”
Alex wasn’t expecting a guest for her presentation, especially not one so fine. As her mind searched for a clue to his identity, Mr. Jacobson walked over to her with Daniel and a formal introduction was made.
“Alex Munroe and members of the board, meet Daniel McClellan, our newest broker.”
Alex was reeling. With her heart pounding, she maintained a calm and poised exterior and greeted him. “Good morning…is it Daniel?” she asked, extending her hand. She was so shaken by his intrusion that she had barely heard his name.
“Yes,” he said, smiling. His voice was smooth and inviting. His hand was strong when he grabbed hers, and it lingered a little longer than what would be considered normal for a handshake.
“It’s good to meet you,” Alex responded, hiding her distraction.